


Fork at the Trident

by telemain



Series: Fork at the Trident [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:24:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telemain/pseuds/telemain
Summary: Scenes from an alternate-history Song of Ice and Fire. Robert, wounded somewhat worse, doesn’t make it to the battle at the Trident. In his absence, things go … differently.





	Fork at the Trident

Robert Baratheon was not by nature a patient man, and his current circumstances were making it worse. 

Wounded in the lost battle at Ashford, forced to flee to Stoney Sept and hide from Jon Connington, saved by Ned Stark and Hoster Tully ... and then sentenced by Riverrun’s maester to two moon’s-turns of bedrest. He’d argued, he’d reasoned, he’d threatened, and he’d very nearly pleaded. In the end, the old maester had told him, very well, as you wish, my lord, march to battle, but first humour me and spar with Lord Stark for fifteen minutes.

He’d managed eight. 

So he had taken back to the sickbed, spent long hours in conferences and planning with Ned and Jon Arryn. Contingencies were planned, codes written, and he’d given the command of the Baratheon bannermen over to Ned, as Hoster Tully (also injured) had already given his bannermen over to Lord Arryn. And then they rode away, the army, his army, under the banners of the stag and the wolf and the trout and the eagle, and Robert had watched them go. 

Two moon's-turns had become four, then six, as the raven messages trickled in frustratingly slow and Robert kept pushing himself too hard and reinjuring himself. The coded messages meaning victory had come in weeks ago, but the plan had always been for them to come back for him, rather than him trying to travel to them. At least, the plan in case of victory. And now they had come back to get him, victorious, so the messages said, but Robert wanted to hear it from Jon and Ned themselves. 

And they were taking their bloody time. 

Finally, there were footsteps in the hallway, and Robert pulled himself up straighter. Jon Arryn was the first through the door, followed by Ned, and then, to Robert’s shock, his younger brother Stannis. 

“Ned! Lord Arryn!” Robert said, sitting up as much as he could, and then he looked at Stannis, “Seven Hells, Stannis, I’m even glad to see you. Tell me what happened, tell me everything. Who got Rhaegar?” After a moment of silence, Robert pushed on. “Ned? Was it you? Or was it some random arrow, or some soldier in the press?” Robert laughed. “I hope it was. Clearing away bodies afterwards to find the rapist Prince of Dragonstone facedown in the muck, just another corps-” 

Jon cleared his throat. “Rob… no one ‘got’ Rhaegar.”

“He lives? I should have known he’d flee the battle. Did he change the red dragon to yellow? Ah, never you mind, Ned, I swear, as soon as I’m out of this sickbed, we’ll hunt him down; he’ll get a sore neck from trying to look over both his shoulders at once for us…”

Ned shook his head, smiling a little. “Robert, we’ll both have other responsibilities.”

“Hell, that’s right! I need to get up and get down to King’s Landing. There’s so much to arrange… “ He trailed off, looking at the door, “Where’s Lyanna? Is she hurt? Why isn’t she here?” 

The other men exchanged glances. “Lyanna’s fine.” answered Ned after a pause. “She’s in King’s Landing.” 

“What? How could you let her out of your sight after what happened? What if Rhaegar shows up there and-” He stopped. Lord Arryn had raised Robert. Ned had fostered there too, been like a brother. Stannis was actually his brother. He knew them, as well as he knew anyone. And right now, all three men looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. “What are you hiding from me? What actually happened down there?”

They looked at each other. Finally Ned took a deep breath. “We made peace, Robert.”

Robert stared at him. When no one burst out laughing at the great joke they’d played on their sick friend, now their King, Robert shook his head and blinked several times. “I … say that again, Ned.”

“We made peace, Robert. We met the loyalist army at a ford on the Trident, near Harrowway. And we made peace.”

Robert looked over at the table by his bed. The drink, the medication, the small pile of raven messages. “Someone here has gone insane, and I’m beginning to hope it’s me.”

“No one here’s insane, Rob. The Mad King was insane, but he’s dead now. Sane people can make peace.” Jon Arryn sat at the low seat by the window and looked out into the afternoon sky. “Continuing to fight would have been insane.” 

“And so, you made peace? Ned. You made peace with that … kidnapping, raping… after what they did to your family? To m- to your sister?” 

Ned let out a breath. “The Mad King did -- what he did. And he’s dead. As far as Lyanna.” This would be hard for him to tell. But Robert had asked first after Rhaegar, not after Lyanna. “He …. didn’t kidnap her. Or rape her. She went with him willingly. They’re married now.”

“And he told you that? And you _believed him_?” 

“He had a letter from her. There were certain th-”

“And did no one notice that he’s _already married?_ ” 

Stannis spoke up for the first time. “There’s precedent in both Dornish law and Valyrian tradition: if a lord’s wife can no longer bear children, he may take a second wife without prejudice. Of course, Elia’s children would retain first -” He noticed Robert was no longer listening. 

“Bear children? He intends to get his spawn on-” 

“Robert. He already has. That’s part of the reason we took so long.” Ned grimaced. “It was a hard birth, Robert. If the war was still on, if she wasn’t in King’s Landing with the best maesters, I don’t know what would have happened.” 

“So you just… made peace with Rhaegar? Just like that?” Robert put on a high, fluting voice, apparently in mockery of Rhaegar. “‘Oh, I’m _so sorry_ I didn’t tell you I was taking your sister away from her betrothal and therefore started a war across the kingdoms and, oh, got your father and brother _burned alive_. All that’s in the past, I’m sure we can discuss these things like good reasonable men, just don’t let it take too long, or your sister - oh, we’re married _by the way_ , hello goodbrother - might conveniently die birthing my child.’ Is that how it happened? On top of that - ” Robert smacked the pile of raven messages with his hand, sending the slips of paper scattering across the floor. “ - you didn’t even tell me about all this?” 

Ned picked up a few of the papers. “We didn’t exactly arrange a code number for ‘Rhaegar has joined the rebellion’.” 

Robert didn’t think he could have gotten any more surprised. “Joined. _Joined_. How can the Prince join a-” 

Jon spoke, still facing out the window. “Because, Rob, we spoke. First he sent Ser Barristan as an ambassador, and then he came himself under flag of truce.” Jon turned to look at Robert. “He agreed with us, that his father was harming the realm, but he, as the Prince, could not stand by and watch the King - and the King’s House - removed from power with sword and spear. He told us that he had been planning to call a Great Council, with the heads of all the great houses, for some time, that that tourney at Harrenhal, the year of the false spring, had been really for him to explore -” 

“The dragonprince told you all of this and you believed him?”

“It doesn’t matter whether we believed him or not. It was in the past. The question was, what were we to do next. Our aims were the same. Remove Aerys from power. Secure Lyanna’s safety. Punish the guilty.”

“And he just agreed to this? Aerys is dead - unless you lied to me about that too - did he just agree to you chopping his father’s head off?

“We wanted that; ah, I wanted that, and I knew you would want that. Ned was in favor of offering Aerys to take the black, but the rest of us told him that that would just be a slow cruel form of execution. Rhaegar wanted his father sent to Dragonstone to live out his last years. We compromised on having him held in exile by a trusted house. Perhaps with the Tyrells at Highgarden, or with the Martells at Sunspear.” 

Ned sat down at one of the chairs near the desk. “Believe me, Robert, I wanted to take Aerys’ head off with Ice. I wanted more than that. I wanted to burn him alive. I wanted to put him - alive - in a crow cage and hang him over King’s Landing. I did not want to continue to fight a war, to kill thousands of smallfolk, just for revenge.”

“You were going to leave him alive.” 

“Alive, and out of power, and with confirmation of his lifelong fears that others were plotting against him. Yes - could there have been a worse punishment for him? The Lannisters changed our plans. We heard they were marching for King’s Landing. Rhaegar was concerned that we’d end up facing the royal army reinforced by Lannister soldiers, and with Lady Elia a hostage. Fortunately, our messengers caught up to Lord Tywin, and he figured which way the wind was blowing. They took King’s Landing almost bloodlessly.” 

“Did they. Did they spill Aerys’ blood at least? Did they roast him alive?” 

Jon answered. “According to Ser Jaime, Aerys ordered the pyromancers’ guild to destroy the city with wildfire. Instead, Ser Jaime took Rossart’s head off, and then, with the bloody sword still drawn, told Aerys to sit himself on the throne, and there he would wait until Tywin - or anyone else - arrived, and then they would discuss Aerys’ surrender. At which point - so says Ser Jaime - Aerys backed towards the throne, then spat at him and threw himself backwards against it, impaling himself on several of the points and dying in seconds. ”

“You believe him. Then again, you believe the Dragonprince. When did you become so gullible?” 

Ned gritted his teeth. “It matters not what we believe, Robert. It only matters what happened. Aerys’ body was indeed found next to the throne, having been stabbed several times simultaneously. Ser Jaime could not have done it by himself. Lyanna did indeed willingly marry Rhaegar. She told me herself.”

Robert stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “So Rhaegar is to be king now.” 

“Legally, Rob, he was at the instant Aerys died. But yes, he has been coronated. The Great Houses renewed their allegiance, and he then - “ 

“How could - I wasn’t - _**Stannis!**_ ” Stannis was still standing just inside the door. “You swore on behalf of my House?” 

“Of our House, yes, as the most senior present. Ser Edmure was also there on behalf-” 

“How dare-” 

Jon came to his feet. “Rob! I have had enough of this! He bent the knee because his only alternative was to refuse and declare House Baratheon still in rebellion!” Robert opened his mouth. Jon kept talking. “ _You_ are still in rebellion. The rest of us _are not_. It is _over_ , Rob!” Jon paused a moment and then continued. “Rhaegar swore oaths of his own to us. Especially, that the next time that most of the Great Houses decide the King should no longer be King, they will not need to express this by calling their banners and shedding blood.” 

“So that’s it then.” Robert was still staring at the ceiling, his voice oddly distant, flat and calm. “He says a few pretty words and it’s over. Pardons all around as well I suppose. Hail to the King, the Queen, and the new royal baby.” Jon started to speak, but Robert waved him off. “Get out. All of you. Leave me alone.” 

Ned stood up. “Lord Baratheon, as head of House Stark I deeply regret the actions of Lady Lyanna, and I recognize the great debt now owed you by my House.” 

Robert shook his head. “Lord Stark, you have done - “ his voice was coldly formal and bitter “ - much and more for me in the battles of this war. Any debt your House might owe me is well repaid. I wish you a safe journey back to Winterfell, and good fortune in the North’s affairs.” Ned nodded and left, and Stannis made to follow him.

“Stannis, you are to go to Storm’s End. Take care of all matters there until I arrive.” Stannis had paused, in the doorway, with his back to the room. Now all he said was “As you wish, Lord Baratheon.” And then he too was gone. 

“Rob, you are angry now, but I will leave you with some advice to consider.” Jon paused, but Robert continued to stare out into the hall. “Return to Storm’s End, when you can travel. Marry some bannerman’s daughter. Raise children. Do your duty to your people. If Rhaegar ever visits, grit your teeth and bend the knee. I doubt he will for some years. He does understand, you know.” Robert was still silent. 

“Your other option is to disavow Stannis and repudiate his oath on your behalf, declare yourself still in rebellion and call House Baratheon’s banners. There would of course be consequences of that action. Some of your bannermen would choose to follow Stannis. Perhaps many of them. You would have to fight them and the rest of the seven kingdoms. And no, Ned and I would not, could not, join you. A royal pardon only stretches so far. 

If you wish to, you could leave Stannis in charge at Storm’s End for a time. He is fully capable of doing the job. Then you would be free to go roaming. Find some whores. Get into a barfight or two. Get it out. Get over the whole thing. You would have been a miserable king - I mean to say, you would have been miserable being the king.” 

“Lord Arryn. I appreciate your advice. I will take it in the spirit intended. I wish to be alone now.”

And Jon left. And Robert was left alone. 

He slept. He dreamt of tournaments and feasts, of battles and duels, of sitting on the throne with Lyanna by his side and the Kingsguard around him. Then the dream darkened. Dragons flew in the sky and fire streamed down. Red fire fell from above, the wildfire was lit and green fire rose from the ground. Warriors with pale skin and glittering steel armor marched past in endless rows, holding torches that hurt his eyes, carrying banners torn and streaked with blood and blackened with smoke, going to pointless cruel deaths. Suddenly he was colder than he had ever been, and looked up to a wall of ice and steel a mile high. _The Wall._ He climbed a long ladder, hand over hand, for what felt like a day and a night, and from the top of the wall he could see all the way to the desert mountains of Dorne to the south; to shattered and smoking Valeriya to the east; endless sea to the west; endless ice to the north, and there he was wearing black, warhammer in his hand, bow leaning against the parapet, watching for - and then the Wall exploded. And he was sent flying - 

He woke. The room was dark. His side hurt. The bandages itched. And maybe Jon had been right?


End file.
